


The Interim

by inheritanceofgeek



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M, Historical References, M/M, Post Finale, Some what of a Modern AU, The Return of King Arthur
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-01-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 11:41:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/661600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inheritanceofgeek/pseuds/inheritanceofgeek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is dead and waiting in Lake Avalon. However, neither of his grieving lovers allow this to stop them living.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Interim

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this Soon after the Merlin finale, probably a couple of hours. I was still in shock and needed to get my spinning internal head canon down on paper. This was the result. I hope you enjoy.

First Freya; then Lancelot and now Arthur. All had gone to rest in Lake Avalon. He hoped they might be there now, talking, laughing, waiting. Arthur would like Freya, he thought. After all, Merlin had loved Freya and she him, so Arthur and her had that in common. He knew that Arthur had loved him. Even if they never spoke of it, even if what they had was forbidden, they both knew their love was more than just a platonic bond between brothers. It was such a shame neither had told the other until it was too late. Merlin sat in the shade of the trees for the nest two nights before he moved. He thought, maybe, just maybe, Albion would need Arthur sooner rather than later, but alas, no. Oh well, there was always next year…

But Albion was safe in the hands of Gwen. She had loved Arthur just as much as Merlin had. When he finally returned after that painfully silent journey, it was she who had run out into the court yard to embrace him. They stood there, hugging in the rain, not caring when her velvet dress became unrescuable or when Merlin’s jacket turned out to be more water than fabric. It wasn’t until Leon placed an arm on Merlin’s shoulder that they broke apart. “He’s dead?” he asked. Merlin just nodded, his eyes were red and dry, beyond crying now. He thought he recognised the same look on Percival’s face. He’d never known he and Arthur had been that close – but, ah, Gwaine wasn’t there. The shattered pieces of his heart fell further into the pit of his stomach. 

Gwen was a wise ruler, possibly greater than Arthur had been, though she’d never admit to it. It was she who truly united the land of Albion, persuading the kingdoms to come together in peace, a true peace where the circumstance of ones birth did not matter. Noble Men could marry peasants and peasants could become Noble Men. People were allowed to practice Magic once more, with Merlin awarded the title of Court Sorcerer. He was the Queen’s most trusted advisor and people flocked from across the world to hear his wisdom or to learn his craft. His firework displays weren’t half bad either. The Kingdom had never been so strong. Well, after all, the UK has always done best under a Queen. She even learned to love again. Oh sure, Arthur would always be the love of her life, but the bond between Queen Guinevere and her husband, Sir Leon, was as strong as ever. They even had children, taking the name Pendragon, meaning that the line was secure. Merlin had often wondered why Gwen and Arthur had not had kids of their own. A selfish part of him hoped he himself had had something to do with it and an honest part of Gwen knew that he had.

Not that she resented him at all, she’d always known she’d never been the soul owner of Arthur’s heart, but she was, at least, the official owner, so she never really resented Merlin at all. If anything, she pitied him. She told him so much on her death bed. Age was written on her skin with every battle scar and worry line, but her eyes bore the same brightness as they had when she first met Merlin; when he was in the stocks and she was just a serving girl to the King’s Ward. How long ago that felt. Merlin hadn’t aged though, not one bit. Sure he looked like he had. But his wrinkles were too uniform and he complained too much about his aches and pains for them to be real. She knew he’d only aged himself so as to make her feel better. It was one thing to watch one’s friends and lovers die without having to see one stay so young. Or perhaps it was for his own benefit? Probably a bit of both. She grasped his hand on her last day and whispered in his ear “I know you loved him.” Merlin drew his hand back about to protest but she gripped hit tighter “It’s OK, I know, and you’ve always been too bad a liar to try and hide the truth from me now!” she laughed “I’m truly sorry” she didn’t know how else to put it, sorry he was in love with a King, sorry she had married him, sorry he’d never been able to say or do anything about it. Merlin gave his big goofy grin as he fought back the tears not knowing how to respond. “You’ll see him again some day. I know you will.” She told him before letting go of his hand and reached across to grasp the hand of her oldest Son “But I’m off to see Leo now, I’ll say hello for you all.” and with that she closed her eyes, her beautiful smile stretched across her wrinkled face. Merlin was left, truly, alone. 

Over the following decades Albion began to shift and change, so subtly that he hadn’t even noticed. Kings and Queens came and went. One minute pointed hats had been all the range, next minute it was long curly wigs. Merlin learnt how to cope with his immortality. It was a burden, no doubt, having to watch everyone he loved grow old and die, but at least he was able to love again. He even got married on several occasions, to women who loved Merlin and he loved in return, but never as much as Arthur. No one, male or female, could ever be as beautiful in mind, body and soul as Arthur. His wives were aware of this though, he never had any secrets from them, but they knew when he went down to the lake that they were not to follow unless invited. Merlin had introduced them all to him, he hated to feel like he was cheating on either of them, for above all things Merlin was loyal. Yes, it hurt to see each of them die and eventually all their children, but by regressing his age back to his youth each time, he was able to cope with it all a new. He was old, but, just like Gwen had done, his youthful spirit always remained. 

He kept afloat of all the comings and goings in the world, travelling from town to town, country to country, trying to see as much of everything as possible; then went to see it all again and to observe how it had changed. But he would always come back to Lake Avalon. He’d lie down by the lake’s edge and tell stories. Of how hilarious Mid Summer’s Night’s Dream had been or how much he’d cried when reading Jane Eyre. He talked about politics as well, how William had been more of a Pratt than Arthur or how much he wanted to throttle Henry VIII for the things he did to his wives. He talked about their families as well. How well Merlin’s recent brood was doing or how the Pendragon dynasty was coping. It made Merlin laugh out loud when he turned the news on at Christmas to see Prince Arthur Pendragon announce he was Gay, only to realise that he was dating one of Merlin’s own off spring. Something like his great-great-great-great-whatever Grandson. He was also called Merlin, he told Arthur “and he can do magic too so this Arthur bloke – he looks an awful lot like you by the way - I bet you’re related! Oh wow, how perfect is that! If he was your Aunt’s Great-Great-Great-times-a-billion Grandson or something. I mean, he’s a Pendragon, so you never know – anyway, he better watch out because what I hear on the magical grape vine is – get this – he spoke to the Cracken when he was, like, twelve or something.” and it went on in this fashion for a while. Relatives often popped up all over the place like this, living lives similar to their own, each choosing to step a little differently on the path each time, but still. Gwens married Lances and Gwaines got drunk in taverns. But Merlin still waited to be reunited with his own Soul Mate. 

On several occasions he thought Arthur would wake up. When magic was banned once more he’d run down to the lake and stayed up all night waiting for something to happen, a beam of light to erupt from the surface maybe? But, nothing happened. So Merlin had shouted abuse at the lake instead and ordered Freya to hit him over the head with a dead trout for being such a Dollop Head. He had to keep his head low during that period… tried to help his kind best he could, setting up Schools and Safe Houses all over the world. When Civil War broke out in England he thought Arthur would come back, but no. The lake stayed as still as always. Merlin rolled his eyes “You’re just being stubborn now. What are you waiting for? Some kind of bloody World War?” he’d shouted before stomping off to tell Charles to stop being such a Pratt or Oliver was going to chop his head off and throw it in a ditch, and then where would he be? 

He thought he might come back when Germany started bombing them. But no, Churchill had kept them all strong and together. He’d done a pretty good job, actually, with the help of Merlin of course. Herr Hitler didn’t have a magician on hand to turn planes invisible or detect where enemy planes were headed with a flash of golden eyes. Merlin liked feeling useful again, even if the world fell into chaos around him. He also managed to nab himself a handsome RAF Pilot called – of all things – Gwaine. Not a relation, he’d checked, but still, it’d been funny to introduce him to Arthur with that knowledge, and he’d been sure to make out with him in front of the lake on several occasions, just to make Arthur jealous. They stayed together for a long time, him and Gwaine. They had to keep it secret, of course, but Merlin had been used to that. But eventually all that campaigning paid off and in 1967 they were able to walk down the road holding hands in their old age, without fear of being arrested. Gwaine had died a few years later, though, and Merlin had decided to stay old for a little longer this time. People tended to ignore him when he was old, and he liked it that way. He was just That Old Gay Guy Who Wore His Boyfriends RAF Coat, and he was quite content to be just a story rather than the centre of gossip. He spent his days out by the lake, watching for something new to happen. He saw in his second millennium by that lake, watched as the firework’s reflected in the water as they sparkled and danced across the surface. How long had it been now? He couldn’t remember exactly… Was it the 12th Century he’d started out in? And this was the 21st Century, so, 900 years, roughly? Blimey. “A lot’s changed since you walked this land Arthur. They’ve got Cars and Television and Pic’n’Mix now.” He grinned to himself, and raised a champagne glass to the lake as the church bell rang in the New Year “Let’s hope the 21st Century is when everything changes.” 

Five years later, it did.

Merlin had been buying loo paper in Sainsbury’s when it happened. Something had changed in the air around, a shift in the magic of the world, and he knew. He just knew. Without thinking or caring who saw, he twisted on the spot and vanished, only to reappear by the lake. He was just in time, a great whirlpool had formed in the centre of the lake and a hand was rising from it, grasping a sword, and Merlin knew that hand, and that shoulder, and that neck and oh my, it was him! It was his Arthur, wet and spluttering, trying to stay afloat as the whirlpool subsided. Without thinking, Merlin stripped off his clothes and waded in, swimming frantically towards his Arthur. They finally reached each other and just stared for a while, tendrils of Merlin’s magic keeping them upright in the water, as though it were simply air. After a few tentative moments, Merlin reached out to stroke Arthur’s face “You’re real… you’re really real”  
“Yeah, I think I am” replied Arthur, almost as uncertain as he was and then they were laughing again, laughing like they had always done, and even if Arthur’s presence meant all was wrong in the world, it didn’t matter, because Merlin’s world was right again. “I never got to tell you face to face” said Arthur reaching out to hold Merlin by the waist “I’m sorry for being such a Pratt, sorry for anything I ever did to hurt you, sorry for leaving you alone all these years when” Merlin didn’t let him finish his sentence as he had already grabbed him by the shoulder’s and pulled him in for a long deep kiss. Their first ever, but it felt like they belonged together like this, like they had always been this close. They pulled away and Arthur smiled at Merlin, a smile not dissimilar to the one he’d given to Gwen all those years ago, but one wholly new and just for Merlin. They made their way to the edge of the lake and Merlin handed Arthur his coat to put on and changed back into his jeans and T-Shirt. “This is the coat that Gwaine bloke gave you…” said Arthur tersely “Yeah, what of it?” said Merlin eyes twinkling “not jealous of him, are we?”  
“Oh shut-up Merlin.” Said the King, stalking off up the bank in a huff. Yep, some things never change, thought the Warlock grinning, running after him to warn his-royal-highness about the dangers of lorries and the need to look left and right when crossing the road, especially at night. 

In a 130 mile radius of this event (give or take), a nine-hundred-year-old Alien with a Northern Accent grabbed the hand of a nineteen-year-old Shop Assistant and shouted “RUN!”

**Author's Note:**

> Do you see what I did there? At the end? Awwwwh yeah. Doctor Who crossover opportunities for the win!


End file.
